Crisis of Identity
by Autumnal Flower
Summary: ..."There are many things that you never expect your parents to say..." When Auriella Malfoy's father reveals a secret, her world is thrown into turmoil and she faces enemies left right and centre. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognisable from the Harry Potter world, that all comes from the amazing pen of JK Rowling  
**

AJP

There are many things that you never expect your parents to say. These might range from "I used to be female" to "Your Grandfather was an alien" they are things that come out of kids stories or stupid CITV television programmes, worse than that they are stuff of nightmarish embarrassment! The most unexpected of these, however, can knock you back. You stand there as they tell you this piece of information and you can't breathe, you think they're joking but then realise it's the middle of October so why would an "April Fool" follow?! This sort of thing is flung at you seemingly randomly. One minute you're stood making a chocolate spread sandwich and telling your dad about your day, before going off to attack the pile of homework which is in your bag, as you always do. The next he's looking shocked and blurting out a secret so deep it must have been buried under mounds of memories and stone. No my father did not used to be a girl, nor was my unknown dead grandfather an alien (or at least I don't think so, it wouldn't surprise me at this rate!). The crazy secret my dad felt necessary to unload on me as I stood with a knife in one hand and a jar in another was that he is a…wizard?!

Well what can you reply to that?

"Oh great"?

"Ha-ha Papa pull the other one"?

In fact I try both, but the look of utter devastation brings me to the awful truth – my father is insane! There can be no other explanation. I'm slowly reaching for the phone book but he catches my movement, stares intently at me and says

"I know what you're thinking Auriella"

Well this is great, not only is he insane, now he thinks he can read my mind. I turn to him guiltily and he looks me in the eye and quite calmly says

"I know it's hard to believe, and I know that you think me insane, but I can show you."

I stand back and look at him, unsure of where this is going…show me?! How?! Has he pictures of him in a hat and a cloak holding a wand?! I stare at him, my tall handsome blond haired father as he moves over to the bookcase in the corner, and lifts one of our photo albums from a pile. I know which one it is. A red, leather, A4 size book, with the words "Photo Album" in gilt letters across the front. It's full of photos of my mother. I stare at him as he tells me to pull up a chair to the kitchen table. He sets the book before me and tells me to look inside. This is ridiculous because I know everything there is to know in this photo album. My mother with her black hair and green eyes staring at me. It's not a nice photo, in fact she doesn't look like a mother, but then maybe her dying in child birth was God's way of telling her she wasn't. I look up at my father with incredulity as I turn the cover over.

I stare at the picture in front of me. If my memory serves me correctly it should be of my father and mother sat on the beach. She should be wearing a bright red bikini with matching sarong and her large round sunglasses perched on top of her head. My father should be sat stiffly with his arm around her grimly smiling. The picture that faces me is an entirely different one.

"Papa what is this, where's Mama?"

He just sits silently, I turn back to the book. What faces me is a large castle, a magnificent castle that looks warm and inviting at the same time as scaring me. This is the unknown, a life of a wizard (if papa is to be believed) I shut the book quickly, get up from the table and turn to the counter where the coffee pot is standing. I'm in need of a drink, and I can't stand alcohol. I turn to face Papa as he continues to stare at the photo album.

"I'm sorry"

I hear him whisper as he picks the book up and places it on the shelf. As the kettle boils and he turns around my shock and confusion turn to anger.

"How dare you Papa, how dare you not tell me."

This is like something out of a nightmare, I can't face it that he has lied to me for fifteen years.

"How do I know anything about you? About my identity? For God's sake I'm a teenager identity crisis is a given thing, but this…my father was…is…a wizard, and my mother…"

I stop, he finishes for me

"Was a witch."

Witch, that word has so many connotations that wizard doesn't. With wizard you see Merlin counselling Arthur or small white haired men stumbling over spells. 'Witch' brings up images of all sorts of things. The Weird Sisters in Shakespeare's Macbeth, with their cauldron and maleficent spells. Pamphlet images of old crones meeting with cloven hoofed men. The murder of children, innocent children. But of course this is all fiction.

"Witches don't exist"

I say in a whisper. I want to cry, to be held, but I have no one to turn to. I have no mother and my Papa is a wizard. He looks sad at my words, I close my eyes, but only for a second as he walks over to me, takes my chin in his hand and wipes away the few tears that have escaped.

"She was a good witch, a beautiful witch. She helped people…in the war."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. As we're being truthful I decide to voice a feeling that I have had for a long time,

"She doesn't look caring to me"

He stares at me, I think he's going to shout, but then he turns to photo album and turns the cover. No longer is the castle on the front page, now I see the picture I am so used to. He points at the cold dark haired woman,

"Not her, she's not your mother".

Before I can say anymore he walks back over to the bookcase and places the book in its place. With that he looks at me once and smiles sadly. I look away unable to comprehend all that he's told me. The next thing I hear is the front door closing. I sit down at the table and finally cry.

**A/N: This is my first attempt at a novella length story. Please review, constructive criticism is always good, but no flames please, they make me cry! Thanks**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Again anything you recognise, not mine! **

AJP

This must be very confusing for everybody, as it is for me. For one thing why on earth did he feel the need to tell me this now? Why after fifteen years of silence, has it suddenly be broken? The only reason I can think of, as I reflect on events of the day, is from something I said just before he blurted it out.

Today has been an odd day. I got up as normal, went to school, blah blah, everyone knows the score. Although no one would voluntarily wear our uniform, it's a green and blue striped blazer, which, quite frankly, makes us resemble deckchairs - not the most flattering of fashions! I have always wondered why my father had to send me to a school where I was the poorest and the strangest looking, he must have known that I would attract bullies from my first day, which of course was the case. But then again he never really thought about it, his girlfriend at the time, a woman who hated my guts, decide it would be good for me. No surprise that the bane of my life happens to be her daughter. Flic Trier is the worst of the worst when it comes to girls. Not only is she a slut but she's incredibly rich. I can't imagine why Papa had anything to do with Rachelle Trier. Having said that, I now know I have no idea who or what he is.

I may have given the impression that I have no friends at school. I do, I'm not a total loser, I just prefer to hang out with guys rather than girls, Flic's methods of friendship never really appealed to me. I've got your back until I stab it with my sharpened nail file, but you've still got to swear allegiance and bow at my feet wherever possible. My problem is that being the centre of a group of good looking, intelligent guys for five years gives you a reputation, something which I did nothing to alleviate. Let them bitch, I was beyond their reproach. Flic's brother Michel was one of these and particularly bad at exacerbating each and every rumour about each and every girl. He's my best friend, funnily enough. The only girl I had any time for was Emily, an ordinary but immaculately dressed, mousy brown haired girl who I had rescued from Flic's clutches back in year 8, at the age to 13.

It was Emily who I ran into in the corridor at 8.30 while hanging my jacket up and grabbing books out of my locker.

"Ella, have you heard. Andrew Potter is coming next week for the disco."

The one thing you have to know about Mr Andrew Potter is that he's hot. He can't sing for toffee, but he happens to have an incredibly wealthy father who spoils him rotten. Andrew is the dream heart-throb of the moment. Tickets to his concerts sell out in the first 30 seconds of the box office opening. He's also an arrogant bastard who sleeps with his groupies for the fun of it and who has impregnated so many girls that they'd be able to make their kids into a football team, actually wait, probably more like 2 or 3. You can see I hold him in high regard! Though he is hot, and yes a virginal 15 year old's fantasy is some fit famous pop-star to come up to her in the corridor and sweep her off her feet. Hence why I was startled to find Emily frantically waving her hand in my face.

"Wow! Great! Flickie's going to be so excited"

This is our nickname for her, she does want to be a movie star after all, hence her obsession with rich men who have 'connections'. It's a case of that old adage, it's not what you know it's who you know – very true in Flic's case!

"So are you from the look of your face. Ella, how could you? He's a guy who would just gobble up girls like you. He doesn't care and he doesn't pay for his consequences"

"No, his Daddy does that for him. Why did you even tell me this? You know I'm not going to the dance, what with not having anyone to go with."

"But you do have someone to go with."

I looked at her blankly at this, I could not fathom who on earth she could think I would be willing to go to a stupid adolescent dance with.

"Who?"

"You can't not know"

"Oh for God's sake Emily, spit it out."

"Michel"

I looked at her in shock. My shoulders shook with hidden mirth and I couldn't hold it in anymore, I laughed in her face.

"Me go with Michel Trier to see stupid Potter and his gang of idiots play songs that have no rhythm let alone tune"

"Well I had hoped you would"

Speak of the devil! I spun round so quickly my head banged on the locker door

"For God's sake Mic don't DO that. And no I'm not going with you, I'm not going with anyone, because I'm not going."

He came over to me touched my head where I'd hit it.

"Not even as a way to piss off my sister."

Now this idea had a ring to it that my brain liked. I pondered on it. Mic is good looking, smart, and not a complete idiot, despite the rumour he spread about me and him in the Ferris Wheel during a geography field trip…I'd vowed not to though, not after last time, never again would I end up flat on my arse in the middle of the dance floor. I hate dancing anyway. It's funny because I'm not exactly sure how it happened. One minute I was dancing with the disaster date that was Rob Smith praying for it to end. The next I was flat on my very sore bottom, cursing my two left feet. While everyone, including, I might add Mic, was laughing and pointing. No never again.

"No Mic. I've said No and I mean No!"

He looked at me sadly, and for a moment I thought that maybe he had genuinely wanted to go with me. Then his mask of French indifference came up again

"C'est la Vie, I only wanted a beautiful girl on my arm to piss off my idiotic blonde sister"

"Go and ask Hanna then, she's blonde!"

"It doesn't matter anymore, I've decided I'm not going either. Oh yeah Ella, Mr Frink wants to see you in his office"

I sighed deeply. Mr Frink is our Headmaster, and a strange man. He lives with his mother and looks after her cats subsequently he has not time to take care of his own hygiene. This means that the image he presents to prospective pupils is of a man of 55 who is unable to manage basic hygiene and who has white cat hairs all over his already filthy suit. I'm surprised the board of Governors haven't replaced him. Not that anyone ever sees him, he's at his Mother's beck and call. It is usually Ms Davis who is in charge, and she's a dragon. I love my school!

I knock on the door of Mr Frink's office, and prepare my senses for the onslaught of peppermint which his mother makes him consume "to settle his stomach". What meets me however, is a very handsome face of a man I know only from newspaper articles. This man sits calmly in a seat opposite Mr Frink. His dark hair falls messily onto his forehead and his glasses hide eyes that watch and analyse everything. I cannot understand what Mr Harry Potter is doing in my headmaster's office. Or, for that matter, why I have been called.

"Ella, come in please, take a seat."

The peppermint washes over me and I attempt not to gag. He looks down at my shoes and nods. Despite his lack of personal hygiene he has a thing for extra shiny shoes. It's a joke that runs throughout the school. As Frink walks the corridors your repelled by the combination of BO with peppermints and then dazzled by his shoes as you look down trying to avoid his gaze.

"I presume you are wondering why we have the pleasure of Mr Potter's company, Ella"

What I had actually been wondering was whether Papa was going to take me out for dinner like he had promised. But then, Mr Frink never was a mind reader. Mr Potter, however, raised his eyebrows at me and I stared into the emerald depths that met my brown ones.

"As you may have heard, Mr Potter's son Andrew is to perform at the school disco next week. This is a great honour for the school which has come from Andrew's wish to play in a more down-to-earth setting than festivals."

Mr Potter continued to stare at me, ignoring everything that Mr Frink was saying. He seemed to be assessing me, weighing something up. There was consternation and confusion on his face. Then he spoke

"Ella Malfoy, yes?"

"Yes Sir."

"Ella, I want you next Friday to look after my son. He will be here all day setting up for his evening… (he paused)…gig. Your job on this day is to take care of him and his every need. Mr Frink has given you the whole day off. You are to fetch things for him whenever he asks for them, and whatever he asks for."

I stood stunned, I couldn't help thinking that possibly there was more behind this story.

"Why me sir?"

"You are top of your year and it won't harm your studies to have a day off. Plus this is surely an excellent opportunity for you Ella. My son is a wonderful young man."

I could just tell from the way he said the whole sentence that he was not telling me the full story. I may be top of my class by Flic would be much better for this. I'm not cut out for running errands for some idiotic pop-star. I turned to Mr Potter to say no, but something in his eyes told me he knew everything I had just thought. His eyes also told me, by their intensity, that he would not take no for an answer.

"Ok, Sir"

I told him, and he smiled at me. But it wasn't a warm smile, it was a smile that strangely held a lot of suspicion.

I exited the office, and slowly walked down the corridor pondering all that had happened in the last five minutes. I continued walking back to my locker. I could hardly believe that the school day hadn't even started yet. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the lockers, an image flashed before my eyes. A blond haired man facing a red haired man, then a green flash of light. I opened my eyes, startled at the image. I stared into the distance the green light staining my retina with an eerie glow. The word "Malfoy" resounded in my head. Turning back to my locker I collected my books for English, just as the bell rang for registration.

I could tell it was going to be a long, long day.

**A/N: Next chapter up, and the mystery thickens! Plus it's longer :D  
**


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